A Situation Involving Zombies
by Hobbes Black
Summary: Three friends and a family survive an infestation. I'll be updating sporadically, subscribe if you want to follow it. Please review if you read.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Just past two AM, the car pulled into the driveway and lurched to a halt. Right when the windshield wipers stopped, the windshield became opaque from the downpour. Jack was reluctant to get out of the car, but did so quickly and unsteadily on legs that had been at rest for far too long. He walked to the door; hunched forward to keep some of the wet away, fumbled with the keys and let himself in. He had just gotten back from a series of what had probably been the longest and most boring meetings of his life, and was glad to be back home.

He dropped his suitcase and jacket at the door and made his way upstairs, as they promptly made their own small puddle on the tile. He opened the door to the master bedroom and saw, by the dim light of a lamp, his wife sitting on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. She noticed him, let out a strangely humorous moan and started limping quickly towards him. He chuckled and limped towards her in the same manner, arms outstretched to hug her. "Yeah, I'm tired too. Why'd you stay up so la- Fuck!"

He pushed her off and collapsed against the wall, clutching at his wound. He turned his attention to the absence of flesh on shoulder, which was staining his shirt a bright red, and looked at his wife's mouth, which contained that lost part of him. "Shit! What the hell are you thinking!" She swallowed and got up, reaching for him and moaning louder. He backed out of the doorway and made his way down the stairs, all the while staring at her in disbelief. "No! Not funny! Look at this I'm fucking bleeding all over the place!"

This continued into the kitchen, where he grabbed a knife from the block. "Piss off or I'll use it! What's wrong with you!" This didn't seem to deter her at all, and when he could back up no more, he slashed her in the arm. Much to his surprise, she didn't seem to notice and made to bite him again. Before he could think, the knife was in her temple. He stared at her shocked, as she lied there and stared back at him in an endless gaze. She was dead. Six years of marriage ended by whatever the hell that was. Probably the most disturbing part was the lack of blood.  
"Crazy bitch."

He hastily dressed his wounds, and went to lie on the couch by the TV. He needed to think of what he was going to do, what he was going to tell the court, how he was going to do in prison. All of these things seemed to lose importance as he drifted off into slumber. Fifteen minutes later, his life ended.

And then it began; only this birth was much different than the first.


	2. The Big Change

**Chapter 1**

The Big Change 

After over an hour of staring at the clock as it steadily crawled through the minutes, the bell released us from second-period geography. I met Alex at the door, and we made our way towards my locker. Weaving through hordes of people, we arrived to see Xiran waiting. Xiran always went to class after us and got out before us, yet somehow his marks always soared. He explained that it was because he's Asian. It made sense. Alex was a skinny, blonde, and relatively high-pitched white kid whom I had known for three years. Xiran was Chinese and somewhat of a nerd, balancing his free time between playing Halo and writing about it. I met him a year after Alex. We continued with the routine that we had used for the two months since school started: bike over to Xiran's house, eat pizza pockets, play ping pong and halo, and get to class seconds before the bell. It had always worked as long as there were no changes to it, but that day there would be one. And a very large one. On the other side of the front door of the school were three men, dazed and bloody, and by their bashing and the nearly destroyed glass I could tell that they were quite intent on getting in. Now, it is interesting to note that regardless of how long you have known a person, the best way to judge how they will react in a situation involving zombies is by their initial response to seeing one.

Alex: A double take, followed by a girlish scream and heavy breathing.

Myself: "Shit. Um… let's… take another exit.

Xiran: "Well fuck me."

We all turned at once and began moving quickly through the center of the school. Xiran was dumbstruck, Alex looked terrified (he was still looking over his looking over his shoulder and spouting various worried obscenities) and I was just determined to get out of there. There were zombies at the front door. Unlike what I imagine most others would think, this was the first thing that popped into my head and I was sure of it. I looked over at Alex with a look of feigned insanity. "You know what this means, Alex? Zombies, Alex! We're screeeewed!"

"No. Shit. Seriously. That's zombies! That's… there's nothing else it could be! Dear Jesus!" He screamed quickly, directing the attention of most of the school to himself. They then turned their gaze to the front door, where a longer, female scream was emanating from. The zombies had obviously been noticed by someone else. We hurried our pace, eager to escape the rush that the undead are always sure to cause. Xiran joined the conversation. "Alex, shutup. So, we're not going to my house then."

"No", I replied. "We're going to mine. 'Cuz I've got the guns… and no, you can't have any".

"Aw… come on… I want two pistols and a shotgun."

"Funny", I replied.

Alex retorted: "What? What the hell am I going to use THERE'S FUCKING ZOMBIES!"

"We'll think of that later". I pushed open the door against the wind that blew a continuous spatter of cold, sideways rain at us from a grey and unforgiving sky. We pushed against it without thinking or complaining, as panic erupted behind us. Regardless of how nasty it is, the weather never seems like a contender in urgency when there are zombies about. We walked wide around the school, through soaked fields and parking lots, until we arrived at the bike rack. I looked at the school, to see the moaning trio rush in. Some poor bastard had opened the doors.

The wind rushed sharply past us as we rushed home. My house was only three blocks away, but it seems like a lot longer in a crisis. As I was biking home, it occurred to me that I had little idea of what to do. I had always thought it would have been great to have zombies for a day or two, to load up my .22 and sit on the roof picking them off, as they huddled around my house and looked up at me comically. Nobody I knew, of course. When that got tiring, I would go inside, eat dinner and watch TV by the fire. Great fun would be had by all, and it would all blow over in a few days. When zombies do come however, it's quite a different story. The first priority would be to board up the house. No, wait a minute. The first priority would be to convince a skeptical mother that yes, nailing that table to the window is necessary, no, I'm not crazy and yes, there really are zombies roaming the neighborhood. All of these thoughts left me when I saw another one.

It was on the other side of the street, arms outstretched, moaning and coming rather quickly towards us. It was like a happy medium between the two types of zombies I had previously seen in movies, between slowly lurching and all-out sprinting. Regardless, It wasn't pleasant.

"Shit! Zombie! Watch out!" I yelled to my friends as I biked across a lawn on the opposite side of the street. My friends followed, going wide around it. I was amazed that Alex didn't fall off his bike by the way he was shaking. I was going to continue to my house, which was in view now, but decided against it. I swerved sharply off to the left, onto another street. "Where the hell are you going?" yelled Xiran against the wind.

"I'm losing it!"

Losing a zombie really isn't hard. We circled another block, and then headed to my house. Luckily, we didn't see any more. We biked onto the driveway and I attempted to punch in the garage combination with frigid fingers, getting it on the third try. We pushed our bikes in and pressed the door close button, staring at it as it slowly lowered and knowing that something was going to limp under it at any second.

I guess now would be a good time to describe my house, both from a defensive standpoint and for future reference. I live in Oakville (which for those of you who don't know, is Canadian suburbia) in a relatively large, modern house. It had two floors and a finished basement. Probably the most obvious zombie threat would be the large bay windows at the front of the house. That combined with several other windows and a front door partially made of glass made it rather difficult to defend. I would have much preferred an older stone house, with fewer windows and sturdier everything, but then again I could have been living in a Toronto high-rise full of old people, claustrophobia and fire. All things are relative The best part of a situation was definitely not the house though, it was the supplies. We had enough food, canned and otherwise to last us a month. Two jugs, two baths, four sinks and a vast amount of containers would hold enough water to last us a very long time. Most importantly though, we had the weaponry. My dad and I had always been interested in firearms, and as a result we had our own little armory. With all of this we could definitely protect a family of four and two friends.

A family of four. That means me, my mom, my dad and my sister. My grade 6 sister who was currently at her school, which would most likely be screwed long before 3:30. Even if it didn't spread that fast, something was bound to happen to her on the walk home. Someone had to go get her, but first I needed speak to mom. My mom worked at home on the upstairs computer, doing mostly web design. One thing that she didn't like was being disturbed when she was working. "Mom?"

"Mhmm" she said, not looking up from her monitor.

"Can we talk for a bit?"

"Is this important? I'm working."

"Yeah. It is"

"Alright, Justin. What is it."

"Well… okay. When me and my friends were getting out of school there were these… people banging on the front doors and moaning and breaking the glass and trying to get in." The look she was giving me wasn't helping, annoyed and trying not to laugh. "Justin,"

"No mom, listen. I'm completely serious. I know you think I'm joking, but I'm not. Just listen."

"Alright". I had to keep a conscious effort to keep from laughing myself. Regardless of how desperate the situation was, I could still find the obvious humor in it. "On the way home we saw another, he was moaning and coming towards us."

"You realize why I find this very hard to believe."

"Yeah, of course I do. But even if you don't, can you do something for me?"

"What's that."

"Just please go get Sam. I'm really worried about her, and it would really make me feel a lot better." Mom paused for a bit, looking at me. She looked to be sympathetic. "Are you serious about this."

"Completely."

"Because if you aren't-"

"Look!" I interrupted her and pointed out the window. There was a zombie limping aimlessly through the middle of the road, his head scanning back and forth at ground level.

"Okay... I'll get her. But don't do anything while I'm gone."


	3. My First Confirmed Kill

I watched mom as she pulled out of the driveway and began to drive off. The zombie that was on the road limped towards her, and she drove carefully around it. I wondered how long it would be before she took to ramming them, if ever. It followed her into the distance. I walked around the house, checking and locking all the doors and windows. I closed all the blinds, and turned off the radio and the lights. I didn't want my house to be a beacon for the undead. Now that my mom was out of the way, I decided that it was necessary to begin fortifying the house and to discreetly arm myself. I knew there was no way that she was going to let me carry a gun, but I'd be damned if any of those things were going to get into my house. I'd just have to hide it.

I walked down the stairs into the basement where my friends were. I found them sitting on the couch and staring at me, Alex with a crowbar and Xiran with a sledgehammer. They had gotten impatient and raided the workroom. "I guess you guys couldn't find the keys to the rifle case?" In the workroom was a large metal safe containing rifles, shotguns and ammunition. "Yeah," Xiran replied. "We got a bit nervous waiting" Alex, who was looking to be calming down said "When I heard you coming down the stairs I thought you were a zombie and I was like… freaking out." He paused for a bit. "What'd your mom say?"

"I don't think she believed me, but the zombie on the road freaked her out enough to go get Sam. Alright, um… what do you say we start boarding up the windows?" Alex laughed nervously. "Okay… I guess we could start doing that."

I walked into the workroom and after a few minutes produced some large squares of wood, a hammer, nails, screws and an electric screwdriver. I handed the tools to Alex and Xiran, and helped them carry the wood up the stairs. We walked into the family room, where the large bay windows were. "You guys start working on these windows, I'm gonna go upstairs and get some firepower." Xiran seemed to like this. "Awesome. What are you getting?"

"Just a pistol. So I can hide it from my mom."

"Sweet."

I walked up to my parents' room and went into the walk-in closet, where the pistol safe was. In it contained a Browning 9mm and a .38 revolver. My dad always kept two rounds in the magazine of the 9mil, just in case. I heard the two of them screwing and banging at the window downstairs, and looked for the keys to the safe. I knew they were in there somewhere… After a few minutes looking and being unable to find it, I started hearing a banging that wasn't from a hammer. And then glass break. Alex shrieked up the stairs: "Holy fuck Justin they're trying to get in!"

"Shit! I'm looking for the key!" I searched frantically, pushing clothes aside and throwing them to the floor, when I finally pulled my self up to look at the top shelf, and there it was. I pulled it down and opened the case, seeing several boxes of ammunition, the two pistols and a (thank god) partially filled magazine. I hastily slammed it into the grip of the gun and pulled back the slide, chambering a round. I ran down the stairs to see Alex and Xiran desperately holding a large piece of wood with several nails sticking out of it against the window, as a force on the other side tried equally as desperately to push them back. They were fighting a losing battle. "Just let go and run! I've got it!"

Alex immediately turned and sprinted into the basement, with Xiran following directly behind. The board was thrown down, and on the other side of the broken glass I saw that there were two of them. Two zombies, two bullets. I couldn't screw this up. The one in front jammed its hand through, and attempted to climb in. They had both forgotten about my friends and had their attention focused on me. I looked at them through the sights of the gun with shaking hands. I had shot it several times before, and knew how inaccurate it was. "Gotta keep a cool head, Justin. Kill the bastards."

One of them finally managed to get in, tripping and falling on its face. I aimed, prayed, and a shot much louder than I had remembered rang through the house. Brains on the carpet. It was at this point that my friends decided to come to my aid. They slammed open the basement door and began to run out with their previous weapons. This was relieving, but not at all helpful. "Get the hell away! I've got it! Do you want to get shot!" Thankfully, they backed off. I rested my pistol on the banister, aimed and shot it before it got through the window. The gunshot made my friends wince. The zombie's head whipped backwards as fluids flew out of it and it staggered backwards and collapsed into the shrubs.

We had to act fast. All the noise I had just made was bound to attract more of them. "Okay… um, Xiran, could you get rid of that thing?"

"What? Why can't you? That's disgusting."

I looked at my pistol, with its slide locked back. "I gotta reload this thing".

"Well where the hell am I supposed to put it?"

"I dunno…. Just…. Put it in the backyard. Alex, go into the kitchen, flip over the table and bring it in here. Then go to the basement and get the circular saw, alright? There's no way those boards of wood are big enough."

When everyone was working together unhindered by zombie attacks, barricading ourselves in the house wasn't too hard. The circular saw shot sawdust onto the bloody carpet, creating a red mulch as we sawed off the legs of the table. We used the longest screws we could find to attach the table to the wall, and pushed the piano against it for good measure. "Awesome", Alex said. "Now I can play piano and hold off the zombies at the same time." I had ditched the 9mm (which I loaded up and left on top of the safe anyways) in favor of the revolver because of its better accuracy and ease of reloading. My pants pockets jingled with bullets.

After we had boarded up the glass on the front door and the side windows, we did what I never thought I would voluntarily do: clean up. If my mom got angry when I left socks on the floor, she would definitely be pissed when she saw the current state of the house. Xiran's dragging the zombie into the backyard had resulted in a trail of blood on the floors and spatter on the walls. Bloody footprints were scattered over the tile. Regardless of how unpleasant it was to look at, I honestly thought it to be a safety hazard. If anything ever got in, I wouldn't want to do a face plant into a puddle of gore. Directly after finishing that job, we heard more banging on the barricade. Wondering if it was strong enough but unable to check from our current position, we went to the upstairs window to check on it.

We peered intently out the window, pressing our faces against its cold, wet surface. Strangely enough, it reminded me of watching the Santa Clause parade. There was indeed a zombie there, he must have heard the commotion from far off and went for the previous signs of commotion. At that moment, my mom drove up on the road in front of the house. Sam was in tears, and my mom definitely wasn't doing so well. The would-be intruder turned its attentions to her, limping towards the car. I pushed the window opened and yelled out to her. "Just keep going! Circle the block!" I made a hand motion and pointed for her to go. She listened, and it began following after her. I thought about shooting at it, but from that distance I doubted my ability to get the necessary head shot. It kept going in her general direction as she drove out of sight. Half a minute later, she screeched to a halt in the drive way and pulled Sam to the door with her. I could see several more trailing after her in the distance. I ran down the stairs to unlock the door for her.

She hurried in and closed and locked the door. She looked around. She looked at the barricade, the mess of sawdust and blood on the carpet, the remaining spatter on the walls, at my friends and their work tools/ weapons, at my gun and at me. "Put that away right now."

"Mom… no. I refuse. This gun is what saved our lives. There's one on the lawn and in the backyard, and they would have killed us if I hadn't shot them." Sam was still standing behind mom, staring at me in disbelief. She wasn't ready for this. My mom rested her face in her hand and kept it there for a second. "Only until your father gets home… I'll go call him."

While my mom was on the main floor tending to Sam and doing whatever it is that worried mothers do in a situation involving zombies, I made an inventory of our weaponry and ammunition.

-Browning Tube-fed Semi-Automatic .22 Rifle

-Remington Magazine-fed .22 Semi-Automatic .22 Rifle

-Bolt-action Tube-fed .22 Rifle

-2300 .22 bullets

-Browning Hi-Power 9mm Pistol

-1 Magazine

-400 9mm bullets

-Winchester .38 Revolver

-500 .38 bullets

-2 Semi-Automatic Shotguns

-30 slugs

-50 large animal shot shells

-2 Machetes, 1 Short and 1 long

-Stainless Steel Katana, and, just because it would be so fun to use,

-Gas-powered chainsaw

I decided that even though I was going to wait for my dad to get home before I even thought about giving my friends any guns, I should teach them how to use them. I got them to sit down on a couch in the basement and brought out two .22s, the Browning (which I gave to Alex) and the Remington (which I gave to Xiran). Alex protested. "Oh, come on why does he get the cooler one."

"Because that one's harder to reload and holds less."

Now I had upset Xiran. "What the fuck..."

"Whatever! It's what you have to use! Look, I'm using a bolt-action, so stop whining." I began showing them how to use the rifles, starting with Alex. "Alright... To load it you twist and pull this thing forward and drop the bullets in... It can hold eleven of them."

"How many can mine hold?" Xiran inquired.

"Ten. Now you pull this back after you've loaded to cock it... good. Alright, now try aiming at something and pull the trigger." Alex looked up at the small basement windows and aimed at one of the heads of the zombies that were lying down and looking at us. They seemed to lack the coordination to do any damage to the windows when they were lying down. "Take this you whores!" BLAM A spent casing flew out the side of the gun, the glass shattered, and a bleeding head lay by the window. The wind whistled as it flew through the window, bringing with it the moans of the undead.

"Oh snap."

This wasn't good. The broken window wasn't big enough for anything to climb through, but the hands reaching in and grabbing at air weren't helping. More importantly though, I had to hide the guns before my mom got downstairs. I grabbed them both and put them in the workroom, just as my mom ran down the stairs. Luckily, the casing had fallen conveniently under another couch, and out of her sight. "What was that noise? Is everyone okay?" She looked at the window with its greedy hands, and then at the pistol in the holster on my belt. "Justin, did you shoot that?"

"No! They just got through! Look, mom, we have to board it up."

"Be careful."

"Aren't you going to help?"

"I can't go near those thing, Justin. I'm feeling sick."

"Stay down here though."

"Alright."

We dragged a large table over to the window and stood on it. Xiran and I pushed a board against the wall while Alex screwed it in. We then did the same to the other window. "Did you talk to dad?"

"Yeah, he's on his way but traffic's bad. Oh, and I want to show you something"


	4. When's Daddy Coming Home?

It was going to be a lot harder for dad to get in than I imagined. As I followed my mom upstairs, I could hear the pounding grow louder. Our barricades were being challenged. The piano droned with a hollow and slightly instrumental noise at every time the table on the other side of it was struck. That combined with a constant moaning created a tremendous noise. It was being hit almost constantly; I was amazed that I didn't hear it before. She led me upstairs, and looked out the window. I joined her.

In front of our house were well over fifty of them, the ones at the front pounding on the barricade on the other side of the shattered windows, the doors, and even the brick walls. They weren't the brightest of things. All those behind the first layer were either standing there in a tight clump or attempting to push their way to the front. Looking at the house of our neighbors to the right, I could see the same situation. You'd think that a horde of zombies outside your house would be a bad thing, but really it isn't. It usually means you're alive.

The house on the left however, was vacant, with the front door open. I wondered where they were, hoping for the best. Maybe they vacated at the first signs of them. Then I stopped wondering. I was able to see one of them in the crowd, looking into space with only half a face. I checked for anyone else I knew. There was one boy, probably grade 11 who I didn't know the name of but had seen before. Apart from that, it was just a crowd of strange, bloodied faces. I could hear moaning from where I was, I wasn't sure if it was coming through the window or from downstairs.

"What's dad gonna do?" My mom just stared. "Couldn't he come through the back yard?"

"I checked", she replied. "The house on the other side's surrounded too."

I thought for a bit. "Well, mom, I know exactly how he can get in, but you're not going to like it."

Zombies are both more horrible than you could ever imagine, and not as bad as you'd think. They are constant and unwavering, predictably gruesome. You cannot reason with them, you cannot think of them as human, you are fighting a large, collectively thinking an unthinking monster. The fact that they are so existent, there and untiring could easily drive a person mad from the strain of survival.

On the other side of the coin however, this inhumanness and predictability can be what makes survival easier. Surviving a zombie invasion is more easily compared to living through a harsh winter than a war. Rather than thinking of them as people, or even animals, they are things to be conquered and overcome. As a result, it's easy to feel no guilt from killing as many as strategically necessary.

At the center of the top floor were three large windows, and there was another on the left side in the computer room. These were directly above a large shingled ledge that went across the front of the house, as well as the garage roof.. The garage separated the entrance to the house (on the right side) and the entrance to the back yard. Thankfully, the zombies were nowhere near smart enough to think that maybe if there were people in that house, there would be ways in other than the front. That gate to the backyard really was quite flimsy. My mom had called dad on his cell phone a while ago. I had to get her to tell him of the plan, because anything this extreme would never be accepted coming out of me.

We got the call from my dad telling us he was just around the block in his car. I checked my rifle one last time. Safety off, cocked, fully loaded. I opened the window and the cold air rushed in. "Oy! Zombies!" I could see several zombies look up startled, and attempt to climb up brick wall to get me, frenzied in their hunger. I held the gun out the window and fired once into the crowd. Any of them that hadn't noticed me before did now. "Dad! Come on, now! They're distracted! Hey! Look at me! I look tasty don't I! That's right keep climbing up you'll get it eventually!" I saw my dad turn the fence, half crouched over and sprinting towards the backyard. "That's it, you've got it! Look at me, and not at my dad who is clearly over there!" He shot me a dirty look, and quietly closed the fence gate.

On the road and coming after my dad was another zombie. Along with distracting them, part of my job was to eliminate any followers. "Hey! Where do you think you're going!" I raised my rifle, lined up the crosshairs of the scope and fired. It collapsed as brain matter splattered on the ground. "Boom! Head shot!" Disturbingly enough, I was really enjoying this. I used the scope to check down the road for any that could have noticed him.

There was one in the distance coming in my general direction. I couldn't take any risks; we couldn't afford to have anything pounding on the glass doors in the back until it was suitably barricaded. I rested the gun on the windowsill and aimed a few meters in front of his head, holding my breath. "Wait, 1, 2, 3, Squeeze." I fired as it walked into reticule. Satisfied with the results, I decided to wrap it up. "Thank you you've been a great audience! We're here until you fuckers die!" I unloaded the rest of my magazine into the crowd and shut the window.

My friends seemed to think the way that I handled that was hilarious, but judging by my dad's expression as he looked at me while walking up the stairs, he didn't. He was all business. He walked up to me. "Hey Justin." He took my pistol. "I want to talk to you for a bit. He led me into the living room and we sat down on the couch. "Justin, you shouldn't have shot that much. You've got to think. That probably attracted anything in the area."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry."

"Okay... I want you to tell me everything that's happened."

So I did.

"Have your friends talked to their families yet?" I had completely forgotten about that, and unless they decided not to mention it, they had too. "No, they haven't."

"I think they should at least call home."

"But there's no way they're going to be able to get there."

"Yes, but I'm sure they're worried about them."

"So... what should we do now? Are we going to try to get out of here?"

"No. It'd be too dangerous to try to get into the car. We're going to stay here until the police or the army fix it."

"I haven't seen any sirens."

"They can't just ignore us. This must be spreading. They'll do something soon. But we'll have to prepare for if they don't."

"That barricade we made's not going to last. We'll have to make a secondary line of defense by... blocking off that room or something."

"No, we couldn't do that in a way that would hold... There is another way."

"Yeah?"

"Well, they can't climb, right? The barely seem smart enough to walk."

"Yeah."

"Well, I think we should move all the essentials upstairs, and destroy the staircase. We'll leave a ladder next to it and pull it up if we need to."

"That's a good idea. But wouldn't it take a long time?"

The staircase was semi-circular and ran from the main floor to the top. It made out of wood, carpet, and drywall. "No, not really. We can get the drywall off with sledgehammers and work on the frame with a power saw. Between us and your friends it should only take half an hour."

The results from calling home in both cases had been nearly the same: The parents wanted them home as soon as possible, but wanted to wait until it was safe. With that (as well as reloading my .22) out of the way, we began working on the stairs. The first step was to beat the drywall with sledgehammers, creating large holes. The remainder was removed with the sledgehammers and crowbars. My mom and my sister went around the house, filling up as many water containers, baths and sinks as possible, as well as moving all necessary supplies upstairs. Because there was no way to move the stove, a small electric fryer and kettle would have to be used. Perishable food would have to be kept in the fridge (which had been pushed against a table blocking the glass doors), and moved upstairs if at all possible.

Once the drywall had been removed, destroying the wooden framework brought the stairs down. A ladder was propped up against it, and everyone felt a lot safer.


	5. Loss of a Loved One

**Loss of a Loved One**

On the table were a bit less than a dozen plates containing nearly everything. This would be our last dinner eating on the ground floor, and all of us had helped make it. As we hadn't gone shopping in a bit, it was a leftover buffet.

My mom had been feeling sick with a headache, and had lost her appetite. I knew the feeling. She was upstairs taking a nap. I'm not sure whether her "no guns at the dinner table" rule would have been maintained if she were here, but as long as she wasn't eating with us it wasn't. In front of us were my dad's shotgun and my rifle. We each had pistols holstered. My friends had been complaining for a while at their lack of weaponry, but for the time being my mom wouldn't let them carry guns.

All of us were ravenous for having missed lunch, except for my sister who hadn't eaten much at all. She sat there with bits of half-eaten meat on her plate, occasionally glancing nervously at the glass doors, black as the night on the other side of them. She wasn't normally a big eater, but this was worse than normal. My dad was concerned. "You feeling alright, Sam?"

"Yeah", she said quietly, looking down at her plate.

"You haven't eaten much."

"I don't really like it."

"What's wrong with chicken?"

"The skin tastes funny".

"Well, you should eat. We're running low on meat, and I don't think the Dominion's open."

Regardless of whether Sam would have decided to eat or not, she suddenly lost the opportunity to. We had a few guests come knocking on our back door. There was still time to get some food upstairs, and we started on that quickly. Alex jumped out of his chair with such a force that his knife was thrown behind him. He and Sam both headed away from the doors. Dad immediately took control of the situation. "Go, Sam! Go wait with mom! Alex, get back here." Dad grabbed my rifle from me and aimed it at the head of one of our visitors, which was clearly visible behind the table and fridge. It was difficult to tell how many of them there were, over five at least. He didn't shoot, though. I guess he wanted the glass to last as long as possible, which wasn't going to be too long. It was strong, but when human strength is combined with a lack of pain, glass isn't much of an obstacle. There were smatterings of blood on the constantly expanding impact cracks.

We had planned what was to happen in this situation. In front of the fridge was a plastic insulation box, left open. The freezer was filled with bags of ice and a box of meat, another box in the fridge held the rest. We threw all this in to the thermos box, snapped the lid shut and began dragging it towards the stairs while my dad stayed behind, guarding the door. I climbed the steel ladder and rested the shotgun on the carpet next to my sister, who was sitting on the floor and watching intently. Alex climbed midway up the ladder, and Xiran passed the thermos box up. Once we were all safely above the main floor, I yelled to my dad. "Dad!" A shot echoed through the house. He had had enough of watching. "Let's go! Get up here!" Two more shots. I watched as he rounded the corner, nearly slipping on the debris created by the destruction of the staircase. He passed up the .22 to me, climbed up the stairs and pulled up the ladder. I could hear glass shatter and a loud thud, they had knocked the fridge over. Alex's breathing slowed down and he sat down against the wall. "Shit. Do you know how crazy that moaning is going to drive us?"

"Good idea", I replied. "I'll go put some music on."

Xiran didn't like this idea. "But you don't have anything good."

"Well, it's Christmas music or zombies." I picked up the rifle and went to my room to turn on the stereo. My friends followed me, and my dad and my sister went to see how my mom was doing. I opened the door to see Hobbes rush by my feet, meowing agitatedly. I quickly scooped him up into my arms and scratched his tummy. He would be staying in my room for the next long time. Even if they didn't eat animals in the movies, that never made much sense to me. Hobbes was just another mammal, equally tasty if they didn't mind the fur.

Then came the zombies. Before climbing up the ladder my dad had had the foresight to turn off the lights so we wouldn't have to look at them. This made them a bit difficult to see at first, but they announced their presence with that awful moaning of theirs. I could see them as dark silhouettes lurching around the corner, noticing us, and trying desperately to climb up to us. I was initially worried about the few planks of wood that we left sticking out of the wall from the staircase's destruction, but then realized that it wouldn't be a problem. They did not grab at them or attempt to use anything in particular to pull themselves up, they just feebly jumped and clawed at anything and everything, straining to reach us.

I could see the sparkle in their eyes caused by the light of the chandelier. To imagine what they looked like, start with a normal person. Rip out chunks of hair and flesh, take most of the pigment out of his skin and give his eyes a glazed over look. Then to top it off, add some blood at the mouth and bits of broken glass in the face and forearms. This is exactly what was trying to climb up at us. They really were some ugly bastards.

My friends and I jumped on my bed and grabbed controllers. One of the necessities that we had brought up from the soon-to-be-infested basement was the XBOX and wireless online connection. All of us played compulsively, so this was definitely important. Alex laughed. "Wow. Look at this. There's zombies downstairs, I'm scared out of my fucking mind and we're playing video games." Xiran didn't seem to see this as being at all abnormal. "Thank god for Halo."

Unfortunately, our Halo would have to wait. Mom was definitely not okay. Sam ran screaming out of the master bedroom and rushed into hers, slamming the door behind her. I immediately plucked my gun off the bed and went out into the hallway to see my dad push the door shut and aim his shotgun at it. His eyes were wide and watering, his breathing was heavy and laboured. He had a crazed look about him. Then the pounding on the door started, and my worst fears were realized. Mom wasn't just sick.

Dad's back was towards what used to be the staircase, which was an eleven foot drop to the ground, and a three foot drop the outstretched arms of the zombies. I raised my rifle at the door, and alerted him to the danger of his position. "Dad! Watch out for the drop!" He looked behind him and he looked like he was about to lose his balance, but regained it and stepped off to the side.

In the movies, when a character has become a zombie those who knew them often want to help them, and hope that there is some of the person they once knew in there. What saved our lives was the fact that both of us knew otherwise. Before I could start to think of what to do, my dad already had. He dropped the shotgun. "Justin, stand back." This was unnecessary as I was already meters away, but I backed off further. Whatever he was doing, it stood out immediately to me as a bad idea. "What are you doing?"

"Just trust me. Shoot us both if it goes wrong."

A lump found itself in my throat and tears started to run from my eyes. I kept the gun aimed at the door, watched and waited.

Dad positioned himself in between the door and the drop, and put his hand on the doorknob. He waited, and pulled it open. My mother, looking much like she once did came out of the room with her arms reaching for dad. The moan was almost a shriek. There was an angry and lost look in her eyes that was intent on food.

My hands shook as I tried to aim the rifle at her head. Without hesitating, he ducked under her grip, got behind her and pushed her off the drop. She fell on two zombies, temporarily crumpling them. All three of them then righted themselves, and she joined them in the desperate and untiring attempt to reach us.

Dad retired to the master bedroom and shut the door. I told my friends to play halo without me, and they did wordlessly. I closed the door to them. I looked down at my mother who I had known all my life and she looked back, though not in the manner I had grown accustomed to. I raised my rifle at her, faltered and dropped it. I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes and looked to the ceiling with my cheeks growing steadily wetter. I then decided to go lie down on the floor of the computer room. I had some mourning to do.

And all the while, "Joy to the World" as performed by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir rang joyously throughout the house.


	6. Zombies Don't Like Paint

**Zombies Don't Like Paint**

After we had all stopped feeling sorry for ourselves, we started to wonder why. How could that have happened to her? Maybe she had died from whatever illness she had, and the dead were somehow reanimating. That didn't make sense to me at all. Mom got migraines all the time; they always cleared up soon enough. And even if it did somehow kill her, the dead reanimating idea just didn't make sense to me. There was no way there were enough dead people in our neighborhood to wake up again and fill most of our house. It had to be a virus. But she wasn't bitten, was she? When she got home she looked fine. So maybe it was airborne... Well, if that were the case, we were all royally screwed, so I decided not to think about that possibility. She must have been bitten or infected by them somehow, and the only person who might have known how was Sam. So dad and I had a conference with her.

We walked into her room to see her lying on her bed, eyes closed with tears soaking her pillow. She heard us in the room, looked over at us and squeezed her eyes shut once again. Dad asked the questions; I was just along for the ride.

"Sam?"

"Yeah."

"What happened when mom was picking you up?" She didn't respond. "Sam?"

"...There was an announcement that said the school was going into lockdown, and they turned off all the lights and closed the doors and told us to sit quietly against the wall..." Her speech was broken by the occasional sob. "My friends told me that they heard there were zombies around the school and we laughed and our teacher told us to be quiet. She looked really worried. And then there was a knock on the door and everyone looked got really scared, but it was only mom and she was yelling 'Please let me in it's Mrs. Black' and she kept knocking and then my teacher finally let her in and she grabbed me and took me out of the room...

"I wanted to go to my locker and get my stuff but mom said no and we went out the back door because she said we couldn't go out the front… And we got to the car and drove away but the zombies were there and they chased us..."

Dad had had enough of the story, and asked her what he was trying to find out directly. "Sam, did it look like mom was hurt?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Well, I couldn't tell because she was wearing gloves and a jacket... but she kept looking at her right hand and she only drove with her left one." And there was our answer.

The wound had been small, probably on her finger, and didn't produce enough blood to soak through her synthetic gloves. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen her right hand at all. She must have been hiding it. She didn't like them, but she knew the movies and knew about how zombies worked. Of course, she didn't believe it, but she knew I did. So she hid the hand.

Suddenly, I became angrier than I ever had in my whole life, and this was amplified because it was at nothing. They killed my mom. Those fuckers killed my mom. But really, who did? Just another normal person, who met the same fate and who had a family that loved him. This whole goddamned world was falling apart, and I needed to let off some steam. I couldn't look at my mom like that, and if there was a shred of her previous self in there she wasn't enjoying it. I stood up abruptly, gaining the attention of my father and sister. I grabbed the .22 and opened the door to allow in that unholy mix of "Oh Christmas Tree" and wretched moaning. I looked down the drop. My mom was there, first in line. I raised the rifle, lined it up, fired, and without a second thought turned my back and walked over to my room. I felt no emotions; it was just a job to be done. I had no remorse or guilt; she was already dead and I had come to terms with that. Behind me, another one took her place.

I walked into my room to see Xiran and Alex completely absorbed in the game. Without looking over, Xiran inquired: "What was that?"

"Nothing", I replied. Alex continued his conversation with one of his teammates. "No, I'm not even joking. We seriously are in the zombie area." Xiran put his head next to the mic and added "Yeah, they're in our house". The man on the other end with the southern accent expressed his disbelief. "Yeah, bull_shit._ If they're in your house, why haven't they eaten you yet?" I could see this wasn't going anywhere, so I walked in front of the screen and shut off the XBOX. Xiran protested. "Hey, what the hell. We were winning."

"No", I replied. "I've got something better to do." I reached into my closet and grabbed my paintball gun. Alex seemed to have forgotten about Halo. "Oh, pimp."

I looked over the railing to see them, reaching at us hungrily. Well, we were going to give them every opportunity to eat paint, and I knew from experience that that didn't taste very good. About a week before I had bought a case of 2000 paintballs and filled up my compressed air tank. I had about 700 shots in it. Alex was lazy to the point of never taking in his gun in to be fixed, so I had done it for him, leaving it conveniently at my house. He had about 1000 shots in his tank. Xiran had my digital camera, he was going to do the filming. We decided that we could make ourselves famous by posting videos and pictures on the internet; from what we had seen the reporters couldn't get any decent shots from their helicopters. We rested our guns on the banister, and Xiran started filming with the camera pointed at me. I went along with the pre-rehearsed script.

"Hello, everyone. This is going to be the first of several videos conducted by myself, Alex" the camera pointed at him, "and Xiran". He spun the camera around at himself, grinned and waved. "We are hoping that these updates will become major parts in zombie history, and thus will contain many scientific experiments and analyses on zombie behavior. First off, how do zombies react to paintballs? Let's find out. Our first subject will be that stunning young lady down there." Xiran pointed the camera at a woman in her mid-30s. She didn't look much better than any of the others, as her upper lip had been nearly destroyed. Xiran zoomed in. I could be heard talking off-screen. "The first test will be on her reaction to a single paintball."

I fired a shot, and it hit her straight in the eye. She didn't seem to notice, and moaned a bit louder. "And now, a lot of paintballs. Fire!" Alex had a fully automatic gun that he let rip with, while I plugged away with my semi. Her face was completely covered in pink paint, being hit with 15 balls per second. Her head shook as they impacted. We laughed hysterically. When Alex had emptied his gun, I kept on shooting.. That downpour of paint had messed it up good. It blinked quickly and constantly in one eye, looking away from us and moaning sporadically. We laughed harder, and Alex pointed at its pink face. "Ha! Look at that it's retarded!" I kept on laughing, and got an idea. "Just a second." I turned to the bookshelf behind me a got a metal book-stop shaped like a duck. I walked up to the railing, laughed, and chucked it at her head. It hit it with a clunk and she collapsed. Alex and I buckled over laughing, and Xiran pointed the camera at himself, trying to keep a straight face.

"The conclusion: paintballs fuck up zombies."


	7. Zombies in the Media

**Zombies in the Media**

I watched in slow motion as the paintballs impacted on her head, laughing with my friends but not having quite as much of a good time. When the metal object hit her head, I realized something was wrong. I didn't know what it was, though... We weren't hurting it; that was impossible with the way their brains were jumbled up. And besides, it couldn't be so bad. If it was okay to kill a living thing that was trying to do the same to you, you shouldn't have to put a second thought towards killing a dead thing. And then it dawned on me. Yes, killing was okay and necessary. But humiliation, even if they couldn't recognize it, was wrong. It was like defiling a corpse. I remembered that, and decided not to take part in any more of these "scientific" experiments unless their results would actually help us.

But then again, it _was _funny.

Strangely enough, prior to the outbreak I had put some serious thought into this. I had always thought about talking to friends over MSN and swapping zombie war stories. Unfortunately, the service was down and I didn't know any of their phone numbers, so communication would be quite impossible. Just then the phone rang, but my dad promptly picked it up in the other room.

After we were through looking at it with the video editing software, we started to make our website with a free hosting service. It wouldn't be too professional. "Do we really have to use Freewebs?" I inquired. Alex spun his computer chair around to look at me. "Um... Yeah. I don't know HTML. Do you, Xiran?"

"Nope."

I was just about to ask if my mom could make one, but I stopped myself. A chill went through me and sadness surrounded me. I guess it just hadn't sunk in yet; everything seemed so surreal. I got a strange feeling in my stomach and left the room, mumbling "I'll be back in a bit" as my only explanation.

I lay down on my bed and stared up at the ceiling, Hobbes on my chest purring loudly. He seemed to be blissfully unaware of our predicament. I thought about that for a bit, and it made me feel better. I hugged him tightly and he looked at me funny.

While I was there I wondered. If or when life was going to return to normal, what the army was doing about this, if it was anywhere else in the world or if everyone was feeling unanimously sorry for and afraid of us... I looked about my red room; at its walls. I looked at the various demonic tribal masks, at the cross above my head and at the swords and machetes mounted on the walls. Maybe they would become useful. I hoped not.

I shifted my position, causing Hobbes to leap silently off the bed. I left my room, walked through the hall where the moaning was, and entered the room where my father lived. A lamp provided the only light. My dad was lying on his bed talking on the phone, and my sister was next to him. She looked to be asleep. Across the room, the news was on quietly. I watched.

In the movies, you always hear talk of "civil unrest", "bizarre homicides", "viruses" and so on. Even once they recognize the zombies for what they are, they call them "reanimates" and various other non-extreme names. This is not true for when it happens. Directly behind the anchorman on a small screen was "_ZOMBIE INVASION!" _with a picture of a hand coming out of the ground. I guess they were trying their hardest to get people's attentions.

"U.S. President George Bush has announced that the Canadian border is closed, and that all incoming air traffic has been cancelled. Those who attempt to cross the border will be turned back, and stationed National Guard units have been instructed to remove those who refuse to comply with adequate force. We now go to the New York National Guard stationed at the border."

I stuck my head out of the door and told my friends to come look at this. They walked over, nervously looking at the writhing hordes on the main floor. They stood by the bed and joined me in watching the news. The camera focused on a reporter and a soldier who were sitting on chairs behind sandbags on the US side of the river that was the border. A scoped M16 rested against the sandbags just underneath a spotting scope, which the soldier was looking through. The reporter began the interview.

"I am here with Corporal Williams at the Canadian border." The corporal nodded towards the camera. "How long have you been stationed here?"

"About four or five hours. I remember they told us to load up and sit our asses out here and shoot anything that wouldn't piss off. So I did. This is some freaky shit."

"What do you believe to be the reason for this?"

"Zombies... Definitely zombies."

"And have you encountered anyone attempting to cross?"

"Only a few. The bridges are completely swamped with traffic and they're just turning them all away. I'm glad I'm not over there. So far we had about five people with backpacks and guns try to cross but I got them to back off with the loudspeaker."

"So no zombies?"

"Nope, not yet. But they'll come."

The reporter continued to talk as something caught the soldier's attention and he looked intently into the spotting scope. The camera searched the landscape, saw something in the distance and zoomed in on it. Someone was shambling awkwardly towards the border, arms outstretched. It was a bit over 100 meters away. The soldier grabbed the microphone to the speakers. "The borders are closed. Turn back now, and go to your local refuge station." The man just kept on walking, and slightly hurried his pace. The soldier looked a bit worried. "Sir, can you hear me? Turn back now. This is your last chance or I will be forced to open fire." He moved closer, and his moaning could be faintly heard. He moved into the camera's zoom range and we could see his bloodied face. "Sir! This is your last chance! Turn back now!" The camera looked over at the soldier, who was fed up. "Aw, fuck it." He got out of his chair, rested the rifle on the sand bags and took aim.

The camera redirected its attention to the zombie. After a few seconds, a shot penetrated its chest. It kept on going. "What the hell?" Two more shots. Nothing. It was about 50 meters away. "Shit." He grabbed his radio. "Bravo 1, this is Bravo 5. Over." The radio responded. "Bravo 5, this is Bravo 1. Send, over."

"I have a hostile over here. I have attempted to shoot it with no results. Please advise. Over."

"Shoot it the head. It'll drop it. Over."

"Will do. Out."

The camera once again zoomed in on the zombie, which was much closer now. A shot penetrated its head, and it dropped. It didn't bleed. The reporter looked worriedly at the camera. "Viewers, CNN would like to apologize for the graphic nature of this coverage. This is a serious crisis, and the government is doing everything possible for your safety. Back to you, Tom."

I heard the phone click as dad put it back on the receiver. "Who was that?" I questioned. "That was Greg." Greg was my uncle. He lived over in Mississauga, about a half hour's drive away. His old stone house backed onto a steep hill, which led to an orchard and the credit river. It would make a perfect fortress. He was better armed than we were, with a vast amount of weaponry including a samurai sword that he knew how to use. We could live quite comfortably and safely over there. "What did he want?"

"He invited us to stay over at his house."

"What's it like over there?"

"He says so far its fine, but he expects it'll spread soon."

"It's going to be tough to get over there."

"Yes it will." He looked over to see the phone flashing, indicating a message. He picked it up, dialed in the password and listened. Once the message was over, he restarted it and put it on speakerphone.

"Uh, hi it's Wendy Galea." This was Alex's mom. "I don't know if you guys know about it yet, but on the news and the radio they were telling everybody to go over to the mall, so we got over here before it got bad. Chris and Sam are here too." Chris was Alex's dad, and Sam was his sister. To avoid confusion with my sister, I'll refer to her as Samantha. "The army's here and they're looking after things; they're blocking off all the doors and setting up shelters and everything. So... I don't know what you guys are planning, but do you think it'd be possible to get Alex over here? You guys could stay too, they're letting in anyone who isn't injured. But they'll make you check your guns at the door." She laughed. "But there's one problem... We tried calling Xiran's house but there wasn't a response. Maybe they're on their way too, I don't know. I'm sure they're fine, though. So, if you guys could call me back on my cell at..."

We all looked at Xiran. I had a strong feeling that they were not fine, but I didn't say anything. His family consisted of his mom, dad, grandparents and six year-old brother, resulting in only one person who was really fit to fight the zombies.

These two offers presented us with a choice. Alex would undoubtedly have to be with his family and Xiran with his (that is, if they were still alive) but we had the option of putting our faith with the army and hoping for the best, or toughing it out at Greg's. It was ultimately dad's decision, and I asked what it would be. He thought about it for a bit, and responded. "We can drop off Alex and Xiran, but we're not going to stay in the mall."

"Why not?" I inquired.

"Because. By the time we get there it's going to be packed, with more people coming constantly. They can't keep food, warmth and protection going forever, and it is going to last a very long time. And besides, they're bound to let an infected person in eventually, and once it happens from the inside they're in trouble."

Alex now seemed to be very unsure of the place we were taking him to. "Well, what's Greg's house like?"

My dad seemed to want to make it sound like a safe haven, which it ultimately was. "It's big, built solid, well armed and his wife just got back from shopping with enough food to last for months."

"Well, do you think that my family could come too? If they want to."

My dad looked down, looking as though he had something difficult to say. "I don't know if they'd fit in the car along with all our supplies."

This didn't seem to upset Alex. "That's okay. We can take their mini-van."

My dad considered the possibility, and finally agreed. "Alright, I'll give them a call and we'll work something out. In the meantime, it's late. Bedtime."


	8. Late Night Happenings

The invasion had finally ended. I lay in my bed with Hobbes next to me, purring contentedly. A warm glow emanated throughout the room from my lamp and the alarm clock read 11:30. My door was open to the dark hallway; the rest of the house was asleep. Apart from the steady breathing of myself and the cat, all was silent and peaceful. And then I heard the noise.

It was a meow coming from the hallway. But it didn't seem real; it was more like a poor human imitation. Something was horribly wrong. My heart pounded faster and faster in my chest and Hobbes leaped off of my bed, disappearing into the darkness. And then it entered. My skin froze and I shivered violently as I looked at it. I could see it dimly in the entrance to my room, it looked like a cat, but it just wasn't right. Its nose was too long, it was missing patches of fur, and long teeth protruded from its mouth. It looked at me with dead eyes, and took a step closer.

All air in the room disappeared and I couldn't breath. My left eye became blind. I tried to get out of my bed, to get to the sword on the wall, my only salvation. But I was rendered immobile by the weight of the universe pressing down upon me. I was helpless. And it darted closer.

I awoke from that nightmare to a bigger, more real one: life. The room was illuminated by moonlight, and the steady moaning was coming through the door. I was amazed I had gotten to sleep in the first place. I sat up to see Hobbes lying on the foot of my bed, and Xiran to the right of me asleep on the floor. I couldn't see Alex from my position; he was lying on the floor directly beneath Hobbes. I decided to check if he was awake too.

I turned myself around in my bed, and stuck my head over the edge to look at Alex. He looked back at me, rubbing his eyes groggily. "Shit...", he said. "You scared me..."

"It doesn't look like I scared you too much", I whispered back. He was barely conscious. "Trust me... I'm scared... Is Xiran up?"

"No. He's still asleep."

Alex pondered this for a while, and blinked a few times. "Shit, I've been having so many nightmares."

"Yeah, me too."

"No, like... I'm out in the road all alone and they're all around me and you guys are there and I keep trying to fire the gun but I can never hit or it doesn't fire or something... What'd you dream about?"

"Zombie cats."

"Whoooo… Spoooky…"

"Whatever. You wanna wake up Xiran?"

"Yeah, sure."

I repositioned myself so I was above Xiran, and Alex crawled across the floor until he was next to him. Xiran just kept lying there, a small pool of saliva soaking the carpet next to his mouth. "Xiran", I said quietly. "Xiran!" He didn't stir. I reached down and grabbed his arm. He jolted to life and wrenched it away, smacking his head on the wall in the process. "Fuck!" He looked at us with a mixture of pain and exhaustion, rubbing his head. We laughed at him.

Alex and I retreated to our original positions and stared at the ceiling in silence. Xiran wasn't saying anything either. I tried to strike up a conversation. "So... What's up?"

"Oh, nothing", Alex replied. "Nothing but the zombies." Xiran joined the conversation. "Aw, you know what sucks?"

Alex and I asked what.

"Pretty much ever girl our age is a zombie."

Alex laughed. "So, I don't see a problem with that."

Xiran looked confused. "What? That means there's like no chance of us getting any dates."

Alex giggled girlishly. "Well, just because they're zombies doesn't mean you can't... you know..."

Xiran cut him off. "Oh come on, Alex. That's disgusting."

He began laughing hysterically. "No, just think about it. Zombie prostitutes."

I responded to his statement. "You see Alex, this is why you're going to hell."

After some uninteresting chatter, we decided to get back to sleep. Regardless of how dad decided to get out of the house, we knew that it was going to take a lot of effort, and I hoped that the little sleep we had gotten would be enough.

And outside the room, they just kept on moaning.

_**Author's Note! Huzzah! **Thanks for reviewing, I like reading them, etc. While this chapter may be a bit uneventful, I'm building up for the great escape. And just so you don't think my characters are sick in the head, Alex was joking. Julia, I fixed the two just's at the beginning but NOTHING ELSE! I DEFY YOU! Also, after looking around my house, I noticed some more weaponry I hadn't put it so the weapons list in chapter 2 (number 3, he prologue isn't a chapter) is updated. Enjoy_


	9. The Great Escape

Violent shaking jarred me from my sleep, and I looked up frantically to see my dad standing over me with his hand on my shoulder. "What?" I inquired groggily. "Time to get up". I looked over at the clock next to me. It was 9:00, meaning we had only gotten six hours of sleep. "You must be kidding..."

"Nope. Come on. Get your friends up too. We're having breakfast in my room, then we're going."

"What? How?"

"Just get your friends up." He left the room and shut the door behind him.

I got out of bed, threw on my red housecoat and looked down to the floor at my unconscious friends. Getting them up wasn't going to be easy, but it would be fun. First, I tried to do it nicely. "Alex." Nothing. "Hey Alex." Still nothing. "Alex!" I gave up on that. At least I had tried. I turned to rummage through my closet for something suitable, and found a cap gun. I walked over to the door and opened it, letting in the moans. Wake-up time.

"Shit guys get up get up they're in!" I dove behind the bed, landed on Xiran and started shooting randomly. "Fuck!" Alex shouted as he thrashed frantically in his sleeping bag and reached desperately for the rifle lying on the floor a few feet away from him. I burst out laughing as Xiran pushed me off of him. "You're a retard." It took Alex a few seconds to figure out that the zombies were in fact not upstairs, and that they were still in the writhing mass on the main floor. He giggled incoherently. "You bitch..."

"Well, I tried doing the nice way. Come on, breakfast."

They got into their clothes and followed me through the hallway, all of us staying a safe distance away from the railing. We walked into the master bedroom to see my sister lying on the bed next to the cat watching cartoons. My dad sitting was on the floor next to the electric fryer. On it were mini pizzas and fried eggs, the breakfast of champions. We sat down on the bed and dad looked up at us. "What do you guys want for breakfast?"

"Eggs", I replied.

"Eggs", Xiran answered.

"Pizza", Alex responded.

"Well too bad. You're all getting pizza."

Alex remembered the conversation they had had last night concerning his family, and he asked about it. "Justin", He whispered over to me. "What's your dad's name?"

"Paul", dad answered.

"Oh. Okay. Um... so what did my family say about going to your uncle's house?"

"They said they're fine with it."

"Really?"

"Yeah, they seemed pretty eager to get out of there. Your dad didn't like the way they were running things."

"Like what?"

"Well, there was no privacy and they weren't telling people anything. And they didn't think they were searching people well enough for injuries."

"So dad", I cut in. "How are we going to get over there?"

He paused for a bit. "It's not going to be pleasant."

After he had explained the plan and we were overwhelmed with nervous anticipation, we went into my room to get ready. The first thing to do would be to slightly upgrade the guns and do a bit more weapons training. I grabbed my paintball gun and took off its red dot scope. After mounting it on one of the .22s, I showed Alex how to use it to aim with both eyes open. With that, I would be amazed if he managed to miss. Xiran was going to be doing some sniper work, which he was thoroughly exited about. He spent most of the time pointing the scoped bolt-action into the backyard and aiming at various zombies. They had pretty much abandoned the front of our house and those who could not push their way through the destroyed glass and the other zombies were milling about in the backyard.

I began to put on my jeans, thought better of it, and donned my camouflage combat uniform, which I had for Cadets. On top of this I wore a web belt, with its compartments filled with bullets and shot shells. All of our pockets jingled with ammunition. For our escape, I was going to be the best armed because my dad needed to be able to move quickly. The holster on my belt carried the revolver. Slung over my back was one of the shotguns; I held the other. I had shot them before and knew how sharp the recoil was, but I would just have to deal with it for now. Sitting on the bed next to me, my friends raced each other to see who could load a .22 faster. This resulted in a lot of jams, but they got the hang of it soon enough. Then, my dad opened the door and informed us that it was time to go.

We opened the window, and the frigid wind rushed in past us. We climbed out and onto the roof. Outside, the world seemed empty. The neighbor, whose house was previously surrounded, was now vacant. The garage was open, so I assumed they had decided to plow through them to get through the mall. To our right, by the front door were three zombies standing by our previous barricade, doing nothing in particular. They hadn't noticed us yet, but they were to be the first problem.

The car was on the driveway in front of us, and in front of the garage whose roof we were standing on. The angle of the roof made it much too high for any of us to jump down there, so dad would have to jump off the roof directly where those three zombies were standing. He would then drive it over so that we could hop on the roof of the car, throw the backpack containing our supplies as well as the cat carrier into it, and drive away.

The only problem was that the sound of shooting those three zombies was going to not only bring the zombies from all around the neighborhood, but most dangerously, from the backyard. I peeked around the corner of the house to see them standing there, some walking in tight circles, others doing nothing at all. They grew less dense as they got closer to the garage. Luckily, none were in sight of the car.

Wordlessly, we got to our positions. I tried my best to keep a clear head; the cold was only part of the reason I was shaking. Xiran sat perched at the front of the garage, directly above the car. His rifle was trained on a zombie in the distance, and he held it surprisingly steadily. Alex and I sat on the left side of the garage roof, a shotgun resting on my knee and a .22 on his. It was our job to distract them from my dad on the other side of the garage, as well as to shoot anything that followed the car. My dad sat on the other side of the garage, just above the zombies by the front door. They had noticed him, and were now trying desperately to reach him.

For a moment, all was silent save for the wind. And then it started. My dad shouted "Go!" from across the roof and three shots rang out in quick succession. Immediately the zombies from the backyard started shambling eagerly towards us. My dad passed over the .22 to me and I laid it down next to us. They came constantly, paying attention only to us. More and more of them came, and we started yelling anything we could think of. "Come and get us! Up here! Aaaah! Zombie zombie zombie! Strobe-light gremlin Norwegian!" I was running out of things to say, and Alex just screamed. Then all of us, the zombies included, heard the car door slam shut and the engine start.

They started moving towards the car, which had now driven around to the other side of the house. "Shit!" I yelled. "They're going! Shoot!" Alex and I both pointed our guns at them, and began firing. My first shot took off the head of a nearby zombie and sent it to the ground. Alex was shooting well with the red dot sight. Each of his shots hit cleanly in the back of the head, sending little spurts of blood out the other side before they collapsed. More of them began to ignore us and started around the garage. I fired constantly. I was aiming down so that the hard plastic of the butt-plate was resting partially in my armpit. The recoil was horrible. Every shot I took sent pain shooting through my body and expanded the bruise. And they just kept on coming.

Alex and I ran out of ammo at about the same time, and grabbed the guns behind us. They just kept on going; it was too much. Eventually, a few were able to turn the corner. "Xiran!" I yelled frantically. "Shoot down!" He looked over at me confused, and looked down to see two zombies directly below him. He flipped his rifle downwards and fired four shots to get the two of them. It was impossible to aim at that close range with the scope. My dad called for Sam to come, and she got out the window nervously. He climbed up onto the roof of the car and helped her down. "Justin! Come on!"

"Just a second!"

I fired what was left in the shotgun quickly, wincing and taking the pain. I turned and grabbed the other shotgun, and Alex followed directly after me. Xiran emptied his magazine at the others we had allowed to get past, grabbed the backpack and cat carrier with his free hand and passed it down to dad, who chucked them in the back seat. Hobbes was howling in his plastic box. Xiran jumped onto the roof of the car and into the garden, and we followed suit. We piled into the backseat and shut the doors, shoving the backpack and the cat to the ground so that there was barely enough space for us to fit. Sam was already buckled into the passenger seat in front of us. Through the window I could see my dad jump from the roof of the car, directly in front of a zombie rounding the corner of the garage, less than two meters away. He opened the car door with one hand and frantically attempted to unbutton his holster with his other, pulling it out just in time. Right before the thing could get a grasp on him, he stepped back, kicked it into the wall and shot off the bottom of its head.

He jumped into the car and tried to shut the door, only to find that another one was grabbing onto it. He slammed the door on its fingers and nearly crushed them, but it still held on. He put one of his feet on the door and kicked it open, trying to propel it away, but that only left the door open for it. What saved our lives was dad's well-placed shot directly between its eyes, destroying its head. He slammed the door shut and shoved his foot on the gas. The car took out the legs of one directly in front of us and it was plowed down with a sickening crunch, and the side mirror clipped another one in the stomach. Blood sprayed onto the window, I started reloading the weaponry, and we sped off into the distance.


	10. An Expected Dissapointment

"Justin, can you pass me the cat?"

"Yeah, sure."

I lay the shotgun down next to me and reached over Xiran and Alex, grabbing the upside-down cat box as Hobbes meowed agitatedly. Sam reached over her chair and took it from me, causing him to calm down. I resumed loading the shotgun.

As we drove through the neighborhood, I took in the sights. First was a car that had crashed into a streetlight, which had left it in a mess of twisted metal and broken glass. I got a quick glimpse of the deployed air bags and a leg hanging out of the driver's seat. I was glad not to have seen the rest. Most of the houses we saw had been abandoned, save for a few. These were completely surrounded, and invariably had small front windows. I made a mental note to consider that as a major selling point for any future houses I may want to purchase. In one case, a group of survivors sat on the roof in lawn chairs and waved at us as we passed by. I guess dad might have stopped if it weren't for the zombies that turned their attention away from them and over to us, trailing slowly behind the car.

Then I saw a bicycle. And then what was left of its owner. Or at least what I assumed to be its owner. As the car rushed past I could see at least six of them huddled around one spot, eating. I couldn't help but see the blood before looking away. My friends were lucky enough not to have witnessed that, as they were concentrating on reloading the .22s. In front of me, Sam hugged Hobbes as he sat there silently, with as much worry in his expression as a cat's face can portray. And as we rounded the corner and saw the road that intersected ours, we were struck by the realization that getting to the mall was not going to be as easy as we had previously thought.

The road ahead of us was a solid, unmoving block of cars. Nearly all of them were empty, their doors still ajar. The amount of accidents, small and large, was amazing. Cars were rammed into each other, presumably from one trying to push another out of the way. Even the sidewalks were filled with cars. The other side of the intersection was packed in a similar manner. On our side, cars had unsuccessfully attempted to ram their way through. About a quarter block away, zombies surrounded an SUV, banging on the windows. They were the lucky ones; what remained of the windows of some cars were only bloody shards of glass. Dad slammed the steering wheel. "Oh, ff-antastic. Alright guys, we gotta get out of the car." Alex stopped loading and froze. I started loading a lot faster. "You mean we're going to walk?" asked Alex.

"We're going to have to."

Alex looked horrified as dad told us the game plan. "Justin, how's your shoulder doing?"

"I'd rather not use a shotgun for a bit."

"Okay, I'll have to use those then. Open up the backpack." I did as I was told, looking nervously out the window. The zombies surrounding that SUV hadn't noticed us yet, but I wondered how much commotion it would take for just one of them to turn around. And who knew how many more of them gunfire would attract. "Take as much ammo as you can and fill your pockets. Could you pass up the shotgun?" He took both the shotguns from me and slung one of them over his shoulder. "And the ammo." He took the three boxes of shells, and after making sure the guns were fully loaded, dropped them into the large exterior pockets of his parka. My friends and I opened up new hundred round boxes of .22s and poured them into our pockets. Sam looked over at Dad and spoke. "Dad?"

"Yes Sammy?"

"Do you think I should use a gun too?"

He laughed. "No, I don't think so. But Justin will keep an extra good watch over you, won't he", he said looking over at me.

"Of course", I replied.

Dad turned his gaze back to Sam. "And you can take care of Hobbes."

"Alright."

He looked back over the seat, at all of us. "Well, you guys ready?"

"Yeah", we chorused, some of us much more confidently than others. I zipped up the backpack and gave it to Dad. He unbuckled himself, sat at the edge of his seat and put it on, making the shotgun drop off of his shoulder. He put it back on, repositioning it to sit against his chest. "Alright guys. I'm going to go out first, don't come until I tell you. Sam, stick with your brother." He opened the door to the car, stuck his head and the shotgun out, and cautiously looked about.

After he was confident the immediate area was clear, he stepped out and shut the door quietly. I watched as he walked across the road, weaving in between misaligned cars. Although he had never had any military training, he moved like an experienced soldier, his rifle pointed slightly downward and his eyes constantly sweeping. It seemed as though the zombies surrounding the SUV were the only ones around. Then the people inside it noticed him. Their mouths moved quickly as they yelled for help, their cries silenced by the glass. They waved their arms and pointed, but all Dad could do was give them a sincerely apologetic look. Luckily for us, the zombies were far too stupid to appreciate even the most basic gestures, and never looked where the food in the car was pointing.

Dad turned and beckoned for us to come out of the car, and we did so with excessive caution. I turned towards the door, pulled the latch, and slowly pushed it open with my foot while keeping both hands on the rifle. I then moved out of the car and on to one knee, peeking around the door. By this time everyone had met up with dad and were staring at me impatiently. I got up and joined them, feeling thoroughly ridiculous.

We weaved through the bunched up cars and were eventually able to get onto the sidewalk. We walked in a staggered line with dad in front, me behind him, Sam in the middle with the cat box clutched against her chest, Alex behind her and Xiran taking up the rear. I was carrying the scoped .22. No one spoke as we walked through the shade of the overhanging trees. The wind whistled sharply by, freezing our ears and fingers. Sam was the only one out of us who had thought to bring a hat, a Santa Claus one at that. It was too big for her, and its fur rim sagged steadily down over her eyes. Then, Xiran broke the silence. "My house is just around here." Dad stopped and looked back. "Do you think they're going to be there?" I asked.

"Why wouldn't they?" Xiran asked, with some conviction.

"Well, maybe they're at the mall", I responded lamely.

"It's just on the other side of this block", Xiran said to my dad as we neared the first intersection.

As we walked, I realized that the strategies of conventional warfare were almost completely scrapped by the presence of zombies. That isn't to say that a soldier or police officer won't be better off than a civilian; quite the opposite. Weapons training will always be beneficial. But most normal field maneuvers prove to be inefficient, even dangerous. Most urban combat revolves around moving from cover to cover, staying close to walls and moving tight around corners. While this is a great way to protect yourself from armed humans, zombies can't use guns. Or at least, I have never seen them do so. Moving tight around a corner is likely to make you walk face-first into a zombie. You have no idea what's around that corner. This means that you should always try to stay as in the open as possible. The only circumstance in which this is unsuited is if you are trying to go by undetected, which is difficult to do. Even if a zombie is as dumb as a post, they'll find out if there are people around with surprising proficiency.

When we got to Xiran's house, I didn't know what to think. It was an uncommon sight. There were no zombies around, nor were there any around the surrounding houses. Unsurprisingly, they all had large windows. But unlike his neighbors', Xiran's windows were intact. And so was the door. Maybe they weren't at home at all, and they had gotten to the mall without any property damage. Or perhaps they never made it to the mall. The car was still there, and that would explain why Alex's mom hadn't seen them. Nevertheless, we had to investigate.

We walked up the driveway and to the door, as I glanced backwards over my shoulder. It was surprisingly quiet, apart from the faint moaning being carried along by the wind from somewhere out of sight, but dangerously close by. Dad reached out, and tried the door. No luck. "Maybe they're in there", he said unconfidently. He rang the doorbell, and waited. After twenty seconds of nothing, he began to drop his equipment. He placed one shotgun on the ground, un-slinged the other and placed it next to it. He then dropped the backpack onto the small concrete patio. "Stand back..." He backed away from the door, and we backed away from him. He placed his hands behind him and braced himself on one of the wide brick pillars, resting his back against it. Then he slowly raised his leg up to his chest, and snapped it forward. It connected solidly with the doorknob, and the door broke open as splinters of wood flew from the doorframe. He left the backpack on the ground, and picked up the shotgun. Immediately, pounding came from the upstairs, directly above us.

All the lights were on, and in another room a TV played the Chinese news. The layout of the house was somewhat different from mine. Instead of having a semi-circular stairway, the stairs were in two sections with a landing in-between. Dad raised the shotgun, took a step in, and looked around. "Xiran", he said. "Why don't you wait out here and watch the road?"

"Yeah, sure"

"Sam, wait out here with him." Xiran sat on the edge of the patio, and rested the rifle on his knee. Dad then entered the house, Alex and I behind him. The main area lead into various hallways and doorless rooms, all of which we poked our heads and rifles into cautiously into before directing our attention to the stairwell. Dad called out. "Hello?" The pounding upstairs grew louder. He started up the stairs. "Alex, wait down here." He did so without complaint. Dad ascended the staircase, and I followed shortly after him. As we reached the top of the stairs, I saw exactly what I had expected. The doors to the master bedroom were shut, and pulsing with the beating of fists. One rhythm was more powerful than the other, which was weak and inconsistent. I thought of Randy, Xiran's little brother sitting quietly cross-legged next to us on the couch as we played Halo. Then I imagined him on the other side of the door, working with his mother to get through to us. I retired to the main floor, as did Dad.

We passed through the front door, followed by Alex. Xiran sat unmoved from where we had left him, and he looked over at us with grim expectation. "There wasn't anyone there, was there." From the pounding from upstairs, I could tell he knew that there were, but not the people he had hoped for. "No one", Dad replied. Unsatisfied with that answer, he asked how many.

"Only two."

Xiran paused for a bit, expertly suppressing his sadness. "Maybe the others are okay."

"Maybe."


	11. We Reach the Mall

They saw our party, called out and ran towards us. There were two of them, a man and a woman. I speculated that they were probably students of the local college. The woman was tall, about six feet, and blonde. The man was almost a foot shorter and rather portly. Immediately the man's arm stood out to me; it has heavily bandaged. This didn't bother me, however. In that same arm he was holding a bloodied baseball bat with no noticeable discomfort. Attached to his belt was a hunting knife. Perhaps he had slipped up and cut himself with that. But even if we was bitten, he would give us ample warning before proving himself to be dangerous. The woman carried a crowbar.

She spoke up. "Hi, I'm Joanna, and this is Rob."

"Hello", said Rob in a distinct English accent. Dad greeted them. "It's really nice to see some other people."

Rob's gaze went to my Dad's shotguns. "Hell, it's nice to see some firearms."

Dad chuckled. "Do you know how to use one?"

"Well, although I admit my prey was usually smaller and a bit less bitey, I do have some experience."

"Well then, have at it." I was surprised that Dad would hand over his shotgun so readily, but I suppose it was always good to have an extra gunner. I began to get a bit paranoid, and took a peak over my shoulder. Surely enough it was not unfounded, and a zombie was approaching in this distance. Nonchalantly I raised the rifle and shot it through the head, causing everyone behind me to jump. Dad exhaled audibly. "Justin, warn me next time."

Rob's face lit up, while Joanna didn't seem quite as impressed. "Nice one! That really dropped the bugger, didn't it? With these bludgeons you usually gotta smack 'em once or twice while they're down, but that was fantastic!"

Joanna looked over at him disapprovingly. "Ron, don't you think you're being a bit morbid?"

"Oh, of course not... well, are you chaps headed towards the mall?"

We then heard the gunshots ring out over the hill. We had heard their echoes traveling across the landscape earlier, but they had just now grown to be more than white noise. We were approaching the mall.

"We are, but we can't stay for long," said Dad.

"Why's that?" We started to walk, as my friends and I listened to their conversation.

"Well, after we pick up this guy's family" he pointed to Alex. "We're going to see some family in Mississauga."

"You're going to walk to Mississauga?"

"Yup."

He paused for a second. "Well, all the power to ya. Oy! Watch it!" I tried to shoot the zombie that had just emerged from behind a car on the road, but was immediately forced to throw my hands over my ringing ears as Rob and Dad blasted it into bits. It was thrown backwards over the hood of the car, its head decimated by the pellets. "Crikey Moses this thing's got some kick to it!"

"Shit! Warn me next time!"

"Okay, how about we do it this way," said Xiran. "If anybody sees a zombie they yell 'Mine'."

We came closer to the top of the hill, and I jogged forward and looked over its summit. "Well... I guess it looks kinda like Christmas Eve."

"What's it like up there?" asked Rob.

"Come and see for yourself."

"Just a second. Mine!" He turned 180 degrees and shot behind him. "You know, I'm starting to like this thing more and more."

"Oh shit," said Alex as he reached the top.

The mall seemed to be the central hub of all the world's chaos. It was large and sprawling, with the second floor at ground level in parts. The ground floor could be reached either by the underground parking lot, or on the side facing the highway where the landscape dropped closer to sea level. All the main entranceways were sealed off, by their sliding cages as well as various barricades. I wasn't sure how they were getting people in, but unless the occupants of all those cars were dead, they were doing a good job of it.

The cars had poured down the ramp into the lower level, which undoubtedly led to a mass of immobile metal and rubber. The large aboveground parking lot was no better, with cars positioned haphazardly all over the landscape. The roads leading into it were completely stopped as well. Those who were lucky enough the have the opportunity to drive, if even for a while, had driven as close to their safe haven as possible before abandoning their cars and moving under their security blanket of sniper fire.

Among the cars were several army trucks, with soldiers sitting on their roofs. Among them was the odd machinegun, which were largely abandoned for their assault rifles. On the roof lay several snipers. While I couldn't really tell from that distance, they mostly seemed to be enjoying themselves. Zombies fell from the snipers disturbingly close to us. Sporadic assault rifle fire took out anything that rose from the mass of cars, as worried people and families covered their heads, running to safety. And then came the message over the loudspeakers that they had probably uttered countless times before; "Head for the lower level. We'll let you in through the truck loading bays."

And so we traveled onward, hoping for the best.

_Sorry about taking so long, this is an indication of my extreme laziness and short attention span. I would give up on it, but I've put in too much work to do that. I hope people still follow it._


	12. Out with the Old, in with the New

The sun blazed high above our frozen corner of the planet as we navigated through the parking lot. It was relatively safe, as anything dead that came within range of the military trucks was shot down with great enthusiasm. Directly above us, a young man blasted away deafeningly with his machinegun, shouting madly. "Oh, look at that! That took the fucker down didn't it! What's that? You're getting up? Fuck you zombie! Fuck you!" His partner attempted to calm him down. "Hey, ease up on that. You don't know how long we're going to rely on this ammo for."

"Oh come on, man! I've been waiting for this shit my whole life! Hey, you! I already told you twice!" The shots whizzed over our heads, shattering a nearby windshield and riddling the body with more holes as it collapsed once again. Sam attempted to plug her ears, which was made difficult by the cat carrier. Hobbes was silent, probably scared stiff by all the noise.

"Alright, that does it," said Rob. "As soon as I get my citizenship, I'm joining the army. That shit's brilliant."

Joanna shook her head disapprovingly. "Robert..."

"Oh come on, it'd be great! You could be up on one of those trucks with me, blasting away, saving the world..."

"But that involves you actually being fit."

"And I've got that down, now don't I? Just look at this! Two hundred ten pounds of pure muscle." He raised the arm containing the shotgun and flexed his bicep, rather pathetically.

We stepped over the hood of an inconveniently placed car, which had somehow placed itself perpendicular to the others. I decided to hop from roof to roof which was made surprisingly easy by their close proximity, but was promptly told to get down by my dad. Once we had reached the bottom of the ramp to the underground parking lot, we were greeted by several soldiers sitting in the truck loading bay. Its metal door had been rolled wide open, probably indicating that the danger level in that area was not very high.

Come to think of it, I was amazed that they had been able to set this whole thing up so quickly. This was probably their exact plan for an attack on home soil, but I had expected some denial of the true situation before action. While it was incredibly improbable, it could be possible that they had prepared for this situation. But regardless of how they did it, they did, and many people were saved because of this. Now if only the US army had viewed us as a nation that needed help instead of a threat, we could have gotten out of it earlier.

An officer with a deep voice, gray hair and a clipboard greeted us. "Nice to see you guys, I'm major Victor. Hey, now how did you hurt your arm there?" he said, pointing to Robert's wrapped limb.

"Don't worry about it. I just cut it with my knife, it's alright. Take a look." He unwrapped his dressings, to reveal a clean, but long cut that had stopped bleeding. All the blood had been soaked up by the bandage.

"Alright sir, but just as a safety precaution you're going to have to stay under observation for an hour or two."

"Of course."

"Good. Now if I could ask you all to step right in here we can make sure the rest of you are undamaged. Oh, and you'll have to leave those guns with us. We'll take care of them until this is all sorted out."

"Well, these two," said Dad, pointing at Robert and Joanna "are staying. We've just come to pick some people up."

"And then where are you off to?"

"We're going to go meet up with some family in Mississauga."

"Sir, I'd strongly advise against that. It would be impossible to drive; the roads are all blocked."

"We're walking."

"Now you're sure you want to try that?"

"Quite sure."

"Alright, suit yourselves. Now, would you two please step over there and strip down to your underwear. And if you don't feel comfortable doing that," he said looking at Joanna, "Captain Brady can take you off in to the other room." Captain Brady smiled and waved from her seat on a crate further back in the room. She was a small woman in her mid-forties. "I think I will, thank you," said Joanna. Robert took off his shirt and pants, and was looked over by a young corporal. Once he was satisfied that Rob didn't have any other bites, he told him to get back into his clothes. Shortly afterwards, Joanna emerged from the other room with Captain Brady, who spoke to her and Rob. "Perfect. Now if you two will just go through that hallway, one of our men will arrange your living quarters and give you the tour. Welcome to the Oakville Place Survival Shelter." Rob turned back to us. "Well, it's been great meeting you guys. Good luck."

"You too," Dad replied.

"Happy shopping," said the corporal.

"Now about those people you were meeting up with," said Major Victor. "Are they individuals or a family?"

"A family," said Alex.

"They yours?"

"Yeah."

"Perfect. Last name?"

"Galea."

"Alright. We'll call them over the intercom."

"And Shao," said Dad. Xiran looked over at him with an expression that said he didn't need to humor him.

"What, so are there two families?"

"There should be," said Dad.

"Alright. Corporal! Galea and Shao. Go get 'em."

"Yes sir."

"You guys can take a seat while you wait." We sat down on some nearby crates. He looked over at me. "Nice combats there, son. You in the cadets?"

"Yeah."

"And do you think that's helped you at all with this mess?"

"Well... a bit. The extra weapons experience helps, but apart from that not really."

"That's interesting. And how about you, young lady? How are you doing through all this?"

"Okay" she said, looking at Hobbes. "Dad, can I let him out for a bit?"

"No, Sammy. You don't want him to get eaten, do you?"

"Alex! I'm so glad you're okay!" She ran up and hugged him tightly, nearly smothering him.

"Yeah mom... Hi."


End file.
